


What You're Waiting For

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [177]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bottom Thor (Marvel), Discussions of Consensual Infidelity, Las Vegas, M/M, Pining, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 09:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16385612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: They drove to Vegas after work on Thursday, Thor crunched up in the passenger’s seat of the tiny four-door Steve had rented for the weekend.





	What You're Waiting For

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Vegas. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

They drove to Vegas after work on Thursday, Thor crunched up in the passenger’s seat of the tiny four-door Steve had rented for the weekend.

“You don’t have to do this,” Thor said for the twelfth time as they packed the car, cramming their duffels in the trunk and a cooler full of snacks in the backseat. “Really, Steve. There’s no need for you to go to all this trouble.”

“No need?” Steve slammed the trunk with a bang. “My friend, you’re getting married in two weeks! Come on! That doesn’t happen every day.” He gave Thor a lopsided grin over the roof of the car. “And you gotta figure trips like this are gonna be harder to swing when Loki’s finally got you tied down. Let’s face it: he’s gonna keep you on a short leash for the first few months, at least.”

Thor felt his face heat and he tried to scrub it away with a smirk. “I’m sure he’ll let me out of his sight every now and then.”

Steve started for the driver’s seat, chuckling. “You’ve spent the last two years on different coasts, Thor. There’s no way he’s letting you out of bed for the first week, at least.”

Uncomfortable if not unwelcome thoughts crowded Thor’s head: Loki’s sharp teeth on his neck; the run of that tongue; the feel of his wrists, pinned. Loki’s voice in his ear, that sweet, sullen croon: _There, that’s what you needed, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve been waiting for_.

“Thor?”

He blinked, tried to flush the sun out of his eyes, and looked up to see Steve watching him from behind the wheel, concern sketched over his friend’s handsome face.

“Yes,” Thor said a little too loudly. “Well, then, I was thinking--we’d better make these next few days count then, yes?”

A grin, almost as blinding at the afternoon light. “Hell yes. Get in already and let’s blow this smoggy popsicle stand.”

 

*****

 

It took almost six hours to get from LA to the _Aria_ , six hours of traffic and Steve’s WWII podcasts and of cheerful arguments over what they’d do first when they got there; where they’d eat tonight, if they’d sleep, if Steve was really going to drag Thor to a show. Six hours of easy company, of the occasional comfortable silence, of Thor tipping his forehead against the window and watching the desert fly by, of squirming inwardly at the thought of a shared hotel room, of the last hurrah feel of the weekend, of a sense that opportunity, had it ever really existed, was steadily slipping away.

It was embarrassing and cliche and true nonetheless: he had--how had Loki put it the last time they’d Skyped?-- _feelings_ (the word like sarcastic caramel) for Steve, feelings that transcended their long friendship, and why Loki found it amusing rather than threatening, Thor still wasn’t sure. Loki got jealous if Thor chatted up a waiter, for crying out loud, or smiled at some guy on the street; jealous in an overplayed way, performative, broad outlines of a possessive man, but Thor knew Loki’s guile, his panoply of smiles, well enough to know there was a kernel of truth in those green-scented snarls, the fierce catch of his hands as he spread Thor wide and offered no mercy until Thor copped to his crimes and begged.

And he always begged, of course. That was the best part.

But when it came to Steve, to Thor’s ridiculous, wholly unrequited crush, Loki was fascinated, not furious.

“Are you sure that he’s straight?” he’d asked the last time he’d been in LA.

“He’s only ever dated women, as far as I know. As long as I’ve known him, anyway.”

“Pffft,” Loki’d said, stretching languorously across Thor’s chest, “that doesn’t mean a damn thing. Maybe he doesn’t tell you about all his assignations, darling. Or maybe--knowing you--you haven’t asked.”

Thor had closed his eyes and traced his fingers through Loki’s damp, tangled hair. “Of course not. It’s none of my business.”

“Of course it is.” A lazy lick over one nipple. “You want to go to bed with him, don’t you?”

“ _Go to bed with_? Come on, Loki--”

“Well.” A scrape of teeth. “It seems entirely reasonable to me that you should want to know how an expression of that desire might be met.”

Thor had felt himself blushing, that unmistakable curl of angry roses rising from his chest to his cheeks. “I don’t see how that matters,” he blustered. “I’m marrying you, aren’t I?”

“No shit.” Loki’d sat up a little and tipped his chin against Thor’s breastbone, those bright, knowing eyes awash in amusement. “But you want to fuck him. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Never said I wanted to fuck him.”

“God, you’re all about semantics this evening, aren’t you?” Loki wiggled up and tucked his mouth in the crook of Thor’s neck, bit at his beard. “Fine. You want him to fuck you. Same difference.”

Thor had closed his eyes again, felt shame and something else wrestling over his face even as he leaned into Loki’s kisses, arched at the hot turn of his tongue. “Is it now?” he murmured.

A nod. “Mmmhmmm. So when are you going to tell him?”

He curved a hand around Loki’s hip, stroked the sweat at the small of his back. “Tell who what, now?”

“I mean,” Loki had breathed, “it’ll have to be before the wedding, obviously. Regular infidelity would be bad enough, but married infidelity? Tsk. You’d scare him straight away.”

“I can’t believe that we’re talking about this. Do we have to talk? Hmm?” Thor had clutched at Loki’s curls, pulled that clever mouth to meet his, and when Loki groaned and surged up to meet him, Thor thought he’d won the day.

Except Loki was Loki, bless him, and even as he rutted against Thor’s thigh and slipped slim, clever fingers between Thor’s thighs, he would not let it go.

“You should go away,” he panted against Thor’s cheek. “For a, what do you call it, a boys’ weekend or something. Before we get hitched. Take him someplace outdoorsy and private--he likes shit like that, right--and just lay it all out on the line.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

Loki'd laughed in his face. “Oh, yes you are," he'd purred. “Look at you, darling. You’re dripping at the very thought.”

“And anyway,” Loki had said when they were spent again, when Thor was still pitched over him, still rocking back mindless at the weight of Loki’s cock shoved up inside, “you’re not marrying me with that kind of unresolved bullshit on your conscience, Thor. Tell Steve how you feel or I will.”


End file.
